


Bed, Bath, and Beyond Irritating

by SloanGreyMercyDeath



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: 52fics, Bed Bath and Beyond AU, F/F, meet cute, shootsecretsanta18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 16:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17227517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SloanGreyMercyDeath/pseuds/SloanGreyMercyDeath
Summary: Shaw works at a Bed, Bath, and Beyond. One day, she finds Root napping in the outdoor furniture section.(1/52)





	Bed, Bath, and Beyond Irritating

The first time Shaw sees her, it’s one pm and she is asleep in a lawn chair. Her sleeping face looks peaceful and it takes Shaw a moment to realize that this is weird. The outdoor section of Bed, Bath, and Beyond wasn’t usually used for napping.

Shaw stands just inside the square of fake grass and stares across several plastic tables at her. She looks familiar, but Shaw can’t place her. It isn’t a habit of hers to remember anyone. The woman shifts slightly, the leather jacket covering her slides down her shoulders. She looks incredibly comfortable on the hard, plastic seat.

According to her boss, Harold, Shaw is supposed to wake the sleeping woman and firmly, but gently, usher her out of the store. The woman looks so tired that Shaw finds herself wondering if she’d get fired for napping, too. Probably, she thinks. Her boss is a tight ass and she’s already on thin ice after punching that father in housewares last week.

The woman wakes, blearily staring around the store, her eyes not focusing on anything. Root, Shaw suddenly remembers. The woman is Root, her Intro. To Programming teacher from her freshman year. She’d given Shaw an A- because she’d been late to class too many times. Shaw frowned; maybe she should kick the woman out.

Root blinks slowly and seems like she’s having trouble waking up. Her hand pokes out from above her jacket, rubbing her eyes and dropping heavily into her lap. Shaw watches as she tries again to look around. Root’s mouth stretches open into a comically large yawn, and Shaw rolls her eyes.

“Excuse me,” Shaw says, weaving her way through the outdoor furniture towards Root. “You can’t nap here.”

Root’s eyes fix on her and widen slightly. “Sorry,” she says softly, her voice innocent. “I must have fallen asleep. I was just trying it out.” Her hand slides along the armrest, nails scratching slightly at the fake plastic woodgrain.

Shaw almost believes her, but Root’s eyes widen a little bit more and Shaw is just not dumb enough to fall for that. She shoves her hands into her pockets and sighs.

“Look, I don’t care. Can you just get out of this section so my boss will stop harassing me?”

Root’s face relaxes and her head tilts to the side. “Sameen, right? You were in my class a few years ago.”

“Yeah, so?” Shaw asks. Root still hasn’t moved an inch and Shaw doesn’t want to carry her out. “Can you move?”

Smiling, Root’s delicate hands clasp her leather jacket and she climbs to her feet. Shaw takes a step back. She forgot how tall Root is and it makes her angry. Root pulls her jacket onto her arms, smiling at Shaw and running calculating eyes over her body.

“I like this place,” Root says, unprompted. “There’s a lot to do.”

“It’s not a playground,” Shaw feels compelled to point out. “It’s a store. Just buy some candles and go home.”

Root reaches out and flicks a finger against Shaw’s badge. “How long have you worked here?”

Shaw drops her head back and turns around. If talking to Root won’t make her leave, maybe ignoring her will. She steps off the fake grass onto the tile floor and a second later, she hears Root’s boots echoing behind her. She needs this job, she reminds herself. She has student loans to pay and dogs to feed.

“Can I help you?” Shaw asks, turning around. She finds Root grinning at her and scowls. “What?”

“I don’t remember you being this grumpy in my class, Sameen.” Root’s shoulders sway back and forth. “Then again, you didn’t talk too much. Required class?”

Shaw rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. “Is there something in the store that you’re looking for? Candles? Soaps? Something for your boyfriend?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Root laughs. She leans forward, lowering her voice, her eyes dancing. “I like girls, Sameen. Women.”

A chill runs down Shaw’s back and she jerks away, ignoring Root’s chuckle. Root looks predatory and Shaw suddenly remembers the first day of class. It was three years ago and Root had only been 21, but she still managed to look like she could eat Shaw whole. Time has only strengthened her gaze.

“Ok,” Shaw growls, throwing her hands up. “Did you come here to harass me? Or buy something? Because I can only help with one of those things.”

“Which one?” Root asks, tossing her hand over her shoulder. “Just kidding. I’m actually looking for candles. I have a lot of…coding to do and they help me relax.”

Shaw notices the pause before ‘coding,’ but decides she doesn’t care and holds an arm out, pointing in the right direction. “Please pick a candle and leave.”

“Don’t worry, Sameen. I won’t get you in trouble with your boss.” Root smirks at her and walks away, following the direction of Shaw’s hand.

There is no doubt that Root is a menace, but hopefully she’ll be gone soon. Shaw watches her walk away, annoyed that Root looked so good in her jeans. Shaw has good game; she’s never lacking for company, but Root seems like she’d be…exciting to spend time with.

Zoe appears at her side. “She’s hot.”

“She’s weird,” Shaw replies, “but she is hot, yes.”

“Get her number.”

Shaw sighs, flicking a stray hair from her face. “Too late. She’s leaving.”

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Shaw smiles at her customer as she hands him the towel set. Harold had scolded her for being rude, so she is trying to be civil. The man nods gruffly and walks away. As soon as he is far enough away, her smile drops and she sighs angrily. As much as she hated people before, this job is making her actively want to kill them. She needs to smell some candles and calm down.

Turning to look across the aisle at the candle section, Shaw rolls her eyes. Root is standing in front of the display, her nose deep in a jar of essential oils. It had been almost an hour since they’d talked and Root was still hanging around. Her urge to kill strengthens and she shoves her hands in her pockets.

“You’re going to give yourself a migraine,” she says, crossing the aisle and stopping next to Root. “You’re only supposed to smell a couple of drops at a time.”

Root ignores her, just puts the jar back and picks up another. This time, when she sniffs it, she sneezes violently and jerks back. The jar slips from her fingers and Shaw has to reach for it to keep it from smashing on the ground. The last thing she wants to do today is mop the floor.

When she straightens, Root is smiling at her softly rubbing her nose.

“Sameen! My hero! Did you appear just to catch that?”

Frowning, Sameen puts the jar back on the shelf. “I was talking to you.”

“Oh,” Root shrugs. She taps her right ear. “Deaf. I couldn’t hear that husky voice.”

Sameen rolls her eyes again. “Whatever. Just stop trying to sniff the oils; you’ll give yourself a headache.”

“What’s your favorite smell?” Root asks, moving around the candles on the shelf. “Probably something tropical.”

“I don’t have a favorite smell,” Sameen lies, knowing full well that her favorite smells are metal and antiseptic and her dead father’s cologne. They don’t make candles like that, though, so she just grits her teeth. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Root looks at her for a moment and Shaw wonders what she’s thinking. Root’s eyes are distant, like she’s listening to a song no one else can hear and it makes Shaw uncomfortable. Then, Root blinks and time starts to move again.

“I like fabric smells,” Root says. “Or Rain.”

Shaw wants to scream at Root to leave, so she can move on with her life. Instead, she forces a smile on her face. “Is there anything in particular that I can find for you?”

“Hmm,” Root says, pushing her hair behind her ear, “is there a bed section? A really soft blanket would be nice. My bed could use an upgrade. Maybe I’ll get myself an early Christmas present.” She raises an eyebrow. “Any advice?”

Spinning on her heel, Shaw starts to leave. She doesn’t know why Root is still here or why she’s decided to bother her all day. Across the aisle, Shaw spots John watching her. Great, Shaw thinks, slowing to a stop. If she doesn’t help Root now, John will snitch to Harold, their manager.

She can hear Root snickering behind her and turns back around, glaring. After she helps Root, she can take her break and then it’s only three hours until she can go home.

“Bedding is this way,” Shaw spits out. Yanking the candle from Root’s hand, she slams it on the shelf. “Follow me.”

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Another hour passes and Shaw is fairly certain that Root is gone. They’d spent an agonizing 10 minutes in the bedding section before Root finally let Shaw escape. It was a good thing, too. One more thinly veiled invitation and Shaw would have strangled Root. Although, she is starting to realize that Root might like that.

Once Shaw escaped, she’d left for her break. Now, she is back on the floor and it’s been almost 30 minutes with no sign of trouble. She only had a couple hours of work left and she was hoping they’d be easy ones. Maybe if Root was still around then, Shaw would take her home. She winced. It was probably a bad idea to sleep with a professor, even if she wasn’t Shaw’s anymore.

Shaw leans against a display of humidifiers and thinks back to Root’s class. It was years ago; Shaw is in her last semester now, just waiting to start med school in the fall. Root’s class had been difficult for an intro. course. Apparently, Root is some sort of genius, only 24 and she has a PhD. She’s pretty hot, too.

The radio on Shaw’s hip crackles and she raises it to her ear. Please don’t be calling for her.

“Harold to Miss Shaw,” her boss voice says.

Sighing, Shaw hits the button. “What?”

“I thought I told you to get that woman out of here.”

Shaw hesitates, a headache forming in her head. “You did and…I did.”

“Well, she’s still here.” The radio crackles again. “She’s in the make-up section…smelling things.”

“I’ll deal with her,” Shaw growls into the radio before clipping it back to her belt. She starts towards the make-up aisles, mumbling to herself. “I’ll kill her.”

Root is easy to spot, tall and attractive in her tight jeans and leather jacket. Shaw rolls her eyes. Root is easy to spot because she has her nose in a jar of cold cream. Root doesn’t look like she needs it. She’s young and her skin is disgustingly flawless. Shaw stops beside her.

“Can you not sm- ugh,” Shaw scoffs and walks to Root’s other side. “Can you not smell the products before you buy them?” She snatches the cold cream jar from Root’s hands. “Do you have to smell everything?”

Root smiles at her and reaches for another jar. “Smell is one of our best senses, you know.” She squints at the label. “Is this any good?”

“No.” Shaw screws the top back on the jar she’s holding. “Buy the pink jar. That’s what I use.”

Glancing at Shaw through long lashes, Root puts her jar back. She steps to the right to look at the pink jar of overnight cream. “This one?”

“Yes.”

Root picks it up, immediately unscrewing the lid. “It’s cute. Like you.”

Shaw rubs her forehead, the pounding growing in her temple. This job is not worth all the trouble. She’s not allowed to hit dumb customers. She’s not allowed to literally throw customers out. She watches as Root holds the jar up to her delicate nose and takes a sniff. Her mouth quirks up in a smile and Shaw wants to kiss it. She’s not allowed to sleep with customers in the store.

“It smells good,” Root hums, looking at Shaw. “Do you smell like this?”

Shaw sighs, shrugging helplessly. “Probably?”

Root closes the lid and takes a few leisurely steps towards Shaw, hips swinging as she saunters closer. She leans down, her face inches away from Shaw’s, and all the hair stands on the back of Shaw’s neck. Breathing in, Root’s mouth smiles again.

“You do smell good. I always thought you would.”

Shaw jerks back, swatting Root away. “Look, you have to leave. This is so weird, and my boss is going to fire me if he sees you again.”

“I’ll hire you,” Root croons, the jar of cold cream disappearing into her jacket. “You can be my personal assistant. I know exactly what I’d use you for.”

Shaw isn’t sure if she likes the tone of Root’s voice or her implications. Root is hot, she’ll give her that, but she also seems a little crazy. Who spends an entire day in Bed, Bath, and Beyond? Who just smells things for hours? Root blinks at her, her whole face scrunching to one side, and Shaw crosses her arms.

“What was that?”

Root looks surprised at the question. “What was what?”

“Your face,” Shaw says slowly. Maybe all the smelling killed Root’s brain. “It just got all scrunchy.”

“Scrunchy?” Root repeats again. She makes the face again. “That? I winked at you.”

“No, you didn’t.” Shaw closes her eyes. “I can’t do this. I have to quit this job.”

Something brushes against her face, and she jerks back, her headache growing. Root is pushing a loose strand of hair behind Shaw’s ear. She taps Shaw’s nose and steps away, pretending to look over the jars of cold cream and Shaw remembers the jar in her jacket.

“I thought you wanted to buy candles,” Shaw says, putting her hands on her hips, “not steal lotion.”

Root glances at her, then goes back to looking at the jars. “I’ll buy it. I just don’t have a basket. I didn’t think you’d care.”

“I don’t,” Shaw confirms, annoyed. “I’d love to get one over on Harold, but you don’t even need the cream. It seems a waste. Steal the candle you want.”

Laughing, Root starts walking away. “Help me pick one out.”

Shaw’s mouth drops open as she watches the way Root’s hips move in her jeans and the way she flicks her dark hair over her shoulder. Root had been in the candle aisle hours before, and now she wanted Shaw’s help to pick one out. What is this woman doing here? Had she come here just to stalk Shaw, or did she really need something?

Root turns the corner and Shaw jogs after her. She follows her perpetual customer, feeling like she’s been tricked. Root is walking around the store like she lives there and Shaw is helplessly following behind her. She was going to make this hot nerd write her a compliment card, so Harold can’t yell at her.

They pass the safety section and Shaw sees Zoe leaning against a column, texting. She stops next to her as Root turns into the candle section.

“I’m going to murder a customer. Will you be my alibi?”

Zoe shrugs, not looking up. “Sure. You were here the whole time.”

“Thanks.” Shaw scratches her forehead. “She’s pretty hot actually. I might sleep with her.”

That gets Zoe’s attention and she looks at Shaw with raised eyebrows. “Oh, yeah?”

“If I can get through the next five minutes without strangling her…” Shaw pulls her pony tail tight. “I’ll think about it.”

“You’ve got this, girl,” Zoe says half-heartedly, already looking at her phone again. “Let me know if you kill her or kiss her.”

Shaw rolls her eyes, but she heads for the candle section. Before she gets there, Root steps back into the aisle, her face drawn down into pout.

“I thought you’d ran away,” Root says when Shaw was close enough.

“You don’t have to be weird, you know.” Shaw brushes past Root into the candle aisle, adjusting her radio on her belt. “You’re hot without all the mystery.”

“The mystery is part of my charm,” Root answers. She runs a hand along a shelf, pretending to read labels. “I keep you guessing.”

Shaw ran her eyes over Root, eyes lingering on her long neck and red lips. “If I pick a candle for you, will you leave?”

“Hmmm,” Root took another step towards Shaw, stopping to look at a large blue candle, “only if you leave with me.”

“I have another hour and a half.” Picking up a green candle, Shaw sniffs it, gagging at the sweet smell. “Not this one.”

Root steps even closer. Her arm brushes against Shaw’s as she picks up a rainbow candle and puts her nose against it. Shaw is acutely aware of the warmth at her side, but she focuses on the shelf in front of her. Root would actually have to ask her out. Shaw isn’t going to ask first.

“Want to come back to my place?”

Shaw sighs loudly, giving up on the candles in front of her. “I told you, I have another hour and a half of work.”

Root shrugs, leather jacket scratching against Shaw’s bare arm. The feeling makes her think of the leather she has at home and a tingle runs down her spine.

“I can wait,” Root says, smiling. She winks at Shaw again and this time Shaw kind of likes it. “I know where the bed section is. I’ll take a quick nap. Save up energy.”

Shaw wants to tell Root to go fuck herself, but Root is hot and she still seems a little dangerous. They can mess around for the weekend. Shaw needs to burn some energy anyway and, with the way Root is looking at her, Shaw can tell that something will get burnt. She sighs loudly.

“Fine. Look, if you leave now, I’ll meet you outside when I get off my shift.”

“Ok, Sameen,” Root says, reaching out to tug lightly on Shaw’s ponytail, “I’ll help you look good in front of your big bad boss.”

Shaw’s headache begins to subside and she nods. “Thanks. Now, are you going to buy a candle?”

Root taps her chin, thoughtfully. For a moment, that faraway look appears in her eyes and she stills almost completely. Then, it’s gone and she shrugs. “Why don’t you pick some out? You can set the mood tonight and I’ll get the next one.”

“The next one?”

“Yeah,” Root says, smug, “you’ll want more than one taste, Sameen. I’ll see you later.”

She blows a kiss and walks away, leaving Shaw to stare after her. Before she disappears, she glances over her shoulder at Shaw, meeting her eyes until she rounds the corner. The radio crackles at Shaw’s hip and she blinks, pulling herself together.

“Miss Shaw?” Harold’s voice calls over the terrible radio. “Why is that woman still here?”

Shaw reaches for her radio, but Zoe’s voice comes through before she can press the call button.

“Did you get her number, Shaw?”

Shaw closes her eyes, trying to imagine she’s on a beach like her therapist told her to. Pressing the button, she sighs. “She’s leaving, Harold. Don’t worry.”

“But did you get her number, Shaw?” Zoe’s voice repeats. “I have to know.”

“No, Zoe,” Shaw growls, “but I’m sure I’ll get it when I go to her place tonight.”

“That’s my girl.”


End file.
